


Promises, Promises

by Lady_of_Inklings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst and Feels, Doctor Katsuki Yuuri, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Mafia Yakov Feltsman, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Lilia, Russian Mafia, Self-Indulgent, This is the result of my overactive imagination, Victor worries too much, Yakov is a softie, Yuuri is trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-05 22:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Inklings/pseuds/Lady_of_Inklings
Summary: "Do you love him?"Yuuri nods, "More than anything. I didn't know I could love somebody like I love Viktor.""Yuuri, when I'm gone, promise me you'll stay by his side," The old Parkhan asks sadly. "I don't want Viktor to make the same mistakes I did.""I'll stay by his side till my dying day."





	1. Promise me, Hold me

In the still of the night, Yuuri Katsuki finally emerged from his apartment.

He wore a face mask and beanie, effectively covering his face as he scuttled through the lobby of his apartment building. If you looked closely at his face you would notice the dark bags that hung from underneath his eyes like nooses, the frantic look of panic that hid in his deep brown eyes, and the blush of red that was spotted across his nose and cheeks. His head was always low as if he wanted to become one with the shadows that crossed the streets of St. Petersburg.

Yuuri had considered himself a cautious man but the more the snow-dusted over him, the more he realized that he seriously regretted his life decisions. He glanced briefly at his apartments building, the light in his living room was still on and a silhouette of his roommate stared down at him ominously. Raising his gloved hand slightly, he saluted Phichit before crossing the street quickly.

A sleek black car waited for him, the glaring red lights burning a path through the falling snow. There was a sheet of condensation painted across the tinted window, snow turning into droplets as it touched the heated surface. They reminded him of himself in a way, brief and insignificant. Yuuri stared at his distorted reflection, his eyes were darker and his tanned jacket made him look bilous. His nose scrunched up at the thought, thankfully most of his face was hidden underneath the face mask. The less he showed his emotions, the better.

He could feel the overwhelming sense of anxiety and panic bubbling low in his chest, it would always linger there but Yuuri had years upon years of experience to quell it.

The door opened, followed by a wave of warmth and hair as red as the taillights of the car.

“Dr. Katsuki,” Mila chirped, mood unusually warm. Her blue eyes were sparkling in the low light, simmering with carefully hidden fondness that abated the tight feeling in his chest. “Are you going to stand there all night or would you like to get warm?” She asked him kindly, her accent bleeding all over the words.

Yuuri muttered a quick apology, climbing into the car and quickly shutting the door behind him to preserve some of the warmth.

“ _How are you this evening?_ ” He asked her. Yuuri couldn’t help to wince at his accent as it shredded the Russian in barely recognizable words. “ _Is Georgi with you?_ ”

He had taken Russian when he was an undergraduate, he had been proficient enough and he could read Cyrillic to a certain degree but when it came to conversing, it left much to be desired, Phichit had simply told him that it was a matter of practice. Afterall, Yuuri had only been in Russia for less than six months.

The car moves through the streets, the lights blur by like fireworks. Yuuri buckles his seatbelt as Georgi pressed down on the gas, his fingers stumbling as he contemplates the merits of traffic safety laws.

Mila giggles as his reaction.

“Oh, Yura,” She sighed. Mila didn't sound exasperated, only amused. “Your Russian is improving.”

He foolishly allowed himself to hope. “Slowly but surely,” Yuuri assured himself.

“We can always speak English if you prefer,” Georgi said from the front seat. His hands rested on the wheel, tense and bone white. Yuuri met his eyes through the mirror, he noticed the jagged looking red line that originated from his temple and ended high above his cheekbone. No doubt it would scar, especially with how poorly done the stitches were.

“I wouldn't want to…..” He paused looking for the right word as his mind combed through the distorted images of an English to Russian dictionary. “.....Inconvenience you.”

“No, no, Doctor!” Georgi lifts his hand from the steering wheel, waving his words off. “It’s good practice for us.”

“ _Georgi, don't be mean._ ,” Mila hisses, still in Russian. “ _How is Dr. Katsuki suppose to learn Russian if he speaks English all the time?_ ” She turns to him, sheepish as she switches to English. “Sorry, Dr. Katsuki.”

(“It’s okay, Mila.”)

Georgi shrugs. “ _I don’t particularly care what he chooses to speak._ ”

'Of course you don't,' Yuuri thinks darkly. 

Georgi’s accent is slightly thicker than Mila’s, settling in his ears a bit more harshly. His words are oddly nonchalant, it goes well with the almost bored look on his face. Their eyes meet again, and there’s something that amuses him based on that glimmer in his eye but Yuuri can’t put his finger on it. It leaves him with the familiar feeling of dread that ebbs away at him unpleasantly, like a pebble in his shoe or a splinter gauged into his skin. Georgi regards him as something to entertain him, like a flea in a flea circus.

“ _As long as he can do his job, it doesn’t really matter now does it?_ ”

“ _Georgi._ ”

“ _What?_ ”

“ _That was rude._ ”

“He’s not wrong,” He said in English. Yuuri leans back into his seat, the leather is surprisingly warm under his hands. “My accent is…...odd and a bit off putting but I’m not the one to let something like that get in the way.”

It’s silent after that, the heater and the soft music of the stereo fills the space between them. He leans his head agist the window and watches the light whir past them like comets. Yuuri is thankful for it, he wasn’t a man known to carry on small talk despite his profession. His professors had often told him that he was textbook perfect when it came to diagnosing but his bedside manner needed some work. It was sadly true but Yuuri learned that it didn’t matter.

Especially in this line of work.

The sedan pulls up to a mansion, pristine and white as the snow that covers it. Yuuri had learned that such beauty comes to hide the ugliest of things, it’s always as if the red doors that make up the entrance smile at him but the cold, soulless glass of the windows warn him to run away.

He steps out of the sedan, his louder clad feet touching paved concrete instead of ice.

Mila is next to him in an instant, she stands to his left while Georgi stands to his right. Thought their main function is to protect Yuuri, his back feels exposed as he steps through the decadent threshold. It smells of burning wood and pine, the foyer is the same as the last time he saw it. No one greets him, it’s eerie and silent, it seems as if it’s been devoid of life.

He makes his way past the second set of red doors that lead into the west wing of the mansion.

Yuuri knows the way well, it isn’t his first time being here and he’s certain it won’t be his last. Most people would be thrilled at the prospect of chandeliers and rich coloured wallpaper but Yuuri keeps his eyes down; the repeating patterning in the carpet serves as his map towards the study room.

Yuuri stops at the second to last door at the end of the wing, finally lifting his head up from the carpet to face the blazing green eyes of Yuri Plisetsky. The young man appraises him as he always did, a wall so high that Yuuri could never climb over them. He only looks him in his eyes, unfailingly.

Once upon a time, Yuuri would’ve frozen but he’s too tired and too pissed to care of the murderous expression on his face.

“Yuri,” He greets, his voice is devoid of any emotion. He keeps it civil. "How are you?" Yuuri asked in Russian. 

“Pig.”

“Yuri!” Mila admonished. He ignores her.

“I know. I’m late.”

“Tch,” Yuri rolls his eyes and reluctantly steps aside when muffled Russian screeches through the door. “Don’t do anything funny, piggy. I don’t want to have to order someone to clean your miserable guts off of the floor. He’s in a bad mood today.”

Empty threats. That’s all they are. Nothing more.

(He just doesn’t understand what they mean.)

Once day Yuuri will learn why Yuri hates him, today is not that day. He nods and brushes past him, twisting the knob and stepping inside.

Nobody follows him in.

“Dr. Katsuki.” Yakov Feltsman man glances—-no—-glares at him. It isn’t animosity in his eyes but the years weighing down on his shoulders, the mean scowl and the narrowed eyes are just a byproduct of his youth. Yuuri doesn’t really care about it, he doesn’t mind it, and he certainly ensures that he never asks about it. Yakov is far too powerful and far too stubborn, and Yuuri fears that it might be his downfall. “I see you took your time.”

“Forgive me,” Yuuri apologizes. He bows quickly. “The snow delayed me.”

He rolls his eyes, tightening his robe around himself. “I don’t know why you’re even here. It's only a little pain.”

Yuuri stifled a laugh.

Typical.

“Your sons asked me to be here,” He said. “They say you’ve been complaining about chest pains.” Yakov doesn’t flinch but his eyes soften from that of steel to concrete. Yuuri scowls, “Those could be fatal.”

“They're nothing.” Yakov denies. He doesn’t move when Yuuri approaches him with his bag. He covers his arm out like he’s resigning himself to his fate. It would be comical if he wasn’t the most powerful and intimidating man in all of Russia. “They worry far too much.”

Yuuri smiled softly, agreeing with his words.

He goes through the normal routine, checking his heart and blood pressure. Yuuri tells Yakov that his blood pressure has risen since the last time he saw him, Yakov only gruffs out an excuse before Yuuri checks the stitches on his side. So far, he sees no sign of infection but he redresses it just in case. He makes a note to call Lilia when he gets back home. If anyone could curb Yakov's stubborn ways, it would her. 

“Are you certain there's nothing else?” Yuuri asks just before he strips off his gloves and mask.

He’s giving Yakov a chance to tell him anything, something but the old man tells him nothing.

“Are you sure your side isn’t hurting?” He points out, a bit of steel seeping into his voice. Yuuri turns around slowly and narrows his eyes. “Are you taking the pain pills?”

“They make me drowsy.”

“They help you heal,” he emphasizes.

“I don’t have time to heal.”

“But you need time to heal.” Yuuri steels himself as Yakov closes his mouth, his cheeks turn red and he expects the old man to yell at him but nothing comes out. He only murmurs an excuse and takes the pills that Yuuri offers him. “You’re stubborn, Katsuki,” Yakov tells him. “I suppose it’s expected since you’re a doctor. My Lilia was the same.”

“I don’t have much of a choice. I suppose I must get it from Lilia.” Yuuri shrugs. He strips off his gloves and mask, disposing them into a bin. “I’ll lower the dosage of the morphine if you like but you need to take it. You’re not young, Mr. Feltsman. You need time to heal at this age and you can't do that without rest.”

“Fine,” He gets up and sits at his desk. The papers are strewn about, marked in bloody red ink and numbers are illuminated by the small lamp at the corner. He sees the name at the bottom, the letters elegantly scrawled atop the dotted line with a flourish. He tries not to think of it, ignoring the tight knot of worry. Yuuri tears his eyes away from the names, it’s not his business. “Are you heading home now, Katsuki?” Yakov asks him. He glances past him, at the windows that are partially covered in frost.

Yuuri bites his lip. “I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow.”

“Cancel it, have someone else take over your shift. It’s snowing hard now,” Yakov looks up at him. He frowns, the creases in his forehead are prominent. “You should stay here tonight.”

“Oh, I couldn’t---”

“I’ll have Mila show you to one of the guest rooms,” He says with a tone of finality. The protests die quickly in his mouth. Yakov rolls his eyes at Yuuri’s conflicted expression. “Don't give me that look, boy. You work hard and you look like you’ll fall over if I let you walk out there.”

Yakov Feltsman may have been a terrifying force of nature that had made men greater than Yuuri cower but underneath those layers of ragged edges and fury laid the heart of man that had been mellowed out by age. He would never admit that he had a soft spot for him but Yuuri knew how stubborn he could be.

"Yuuri," Yakov said softly as Yuuri was about to open the door. 

"Yes, Mr. Feltsman?"

"About Vitya---" He stops, then takes a deep breath before letting it out. A conflicted expression crosses his face for a moment before the shadows swallow it back up. "---I'm sorry if I'm taking him away from you. The last thing I want is for Viktor to inherit this burden but I'm an old man, I won't live forever. You know Viktor will be Parkhan one day." It's not a question, it's a statement. Yuuri feels like he's being tested. 

He feels sick, bile rises quickly in his throat. Yuuri clenches his fists till they tremble. "I know."

"Do you love him?" 

Yuuri nods, "More than anything. I didn't know I could love somebody like I love Viktor." 

"That's good. Yuuri, when I'm gone, promise me you'll stay by his side," The old Parkhan asks sadly. "I don't want Viktor to make the same mistakes I did."

"I'll stay by his side till my dying day," Yuuri told him. The golden ring around his neck burned into his skin, strengthening his promise. "I don't want to ever leave him. I don't want him to feel like he's alone." 

"Even if he doesn't marry you?" Yuuri flinches, the words digging in deep. "Even if he keeps you waiting?"

"I love him," Yuuri repeats and that's that.

"I see," Yakov huffs, shaking his head. "You're a good man, Yuuri. Makes sure he doesn't push you away. My son's an idiot but never doubt the fact that he loves you." 

“Thank you,” Yuuri stutters before leaving. 

“Sleep well, Katsuki. Don’t let him keep you up,” Yakov scoffs when Yuuri turns red before his eyes. “Get some sleep. I mean it.”


	2. Love Me, Break Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gets some rest, Viktor gets some answers. They're still figuring it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up writing too much so I had to make this three chapters instead of two as I planned. Oops? Oh, well. More the merrier. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It's close to four a.m. when Yuuri approaches Viktor's door with his bag and coat in hand. He knows the way, Yuuri's certain he could navigate through these halls with his eyes closed. Viktor's room is at the end of the hall on the second floor, the entrance is a simple mahogany door with roses carved into it. 

He doesn't have to knock on the door, Viktor yanks it open and pulls him in before he can get out greeting.

Viktor drags him into a kiss and wraps his arms around him, pressing him against the door. His bag falls from his hands and lands on the floor with a thump, but he soon forgets about it when Viktor tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Yuuri's eyes flutter closed, his hands clutch Viktor's broad shoulders, bunching up the material of his nightshirt. Viktor is kissing him hard, his lips almost bruising as he crushes Yuuri against him, his lips taste of tea and raspberry making the kiss even sweeter and desperate.

"Vitya," He pants. Yuuri pulls away reluctantly, his cheeks stained irrefutably red as Viktor presses several kisses all over his face and neck.

They had only seen each other three days ago for dinner but Viktor was holding onto him as if he hadn't seen him in years. Yuuri didn't blame him, it had been a busy few days and being back in Viktors arms was like a blessing. The tension flows out of his shoulders as Viktor strokes his face.

"Hi," Yuuri breathed out, tilting his head as Viktor kisses his neck. "You're eager."

"Hi," Viktor said. He kisses Yuuri again, this time with his tongue delving past his reddened lips.

Yuuri suppresses a shudder, heat crawling up and down his skin. It's a pleasant feeling that makes him plaint in Viktor's arms. A low sounding moan escapes from his mouth, muffled by the kiss and if Yuuri wasn't so exhausted, he'd be pushing Viktor towards the bed.

(This is new to him.

All of this.

Kissing and dating and hugging and hand-holding, it's so much to process and Yuuri has no idea where to begin. Yuuri's never had time for relationships, his job had taken him around the world and he never had enough time to settle down before he was forced to move. Even in college, he'd been too busy chasing a dream, everything else around him was secondary....even his own happiness.

To suddenly have this, it felt like it was too good to be true. He feels like Sleeping Beauty strolling through a dream, it makes him wonder when it would be taken away from him. 

The ring around his neck told him otherwise but Yuuri's demons always had a mind of their own.)

"I missed you," Viktor says between kisses, his fingers dig into Yuuri's hip. "I missed you so much, Solnishko."

Yuuri smiles back softly. "I know. I missed you too, Vitya."

"You look tired, _kotenyk._ " Viktor remarks as he cups his face gently. His thumb presses underneath his eyes, briefly touching the dark bruise like circles. They were the product of his extra shifts and the countless number of nights Yuuri spent tossing in bed; the only thing keeping him from collapsing was coffee, Phichit, and the naps he caught between breaks. Viktor didn't need to know about any of that, Yuuri knew he would put a stop to it if he found out. "What's the matter? You're so pale."

"I'm okay," Yuuri lied. He had learned in his limited amount of time here that it was easier to lie than to tell the truth. Yuuri smiles but it strains him to do so. He puts on a happy, content face but honestly, he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall into Viktor's arms.

Viktor gives him a concerned look but he only holds Yuuri's face in his hand, smoothing out the worried lines of his face. He presses their foreheads together, breathing with Yuuri. He saw right through him. There was little he could actually hide from Viktor; fiance or not, Yuuri was an open book to him.

He always had been.

"Yuuri---"

"I'm just tired, Viktor," Yuuri leans forward and kisses him softly to distract him. It's a dirty trick but it works, Viktor kisses him back. "It's been a long day. That's all."

Viktor frowns, the corner of his lips dipped into a pressed grimace. "We're not done with this, Zolotse."

He's mad, Yuuri can feel it. His anger simmers underneath the surface.

"I know." He leans in to kiss Viktor, taking his time to savour the lazy pool of warmth that gathered in his chest. "I promise we will, just not now. Please, Vitya," He said, taking advantage of the way Viktor goes weak when Yuuri calls him that. "I'm tired."

"Let's get you to bed then," Viktor said, lifting Yuuri up bridal style and carrying towards the king-sized bed. Normally he would protest but he's too tired to care and Viktor is very, very comfortable right now. He wraps his arms around his neck weakly. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

"Okay."

Makkachin is curled up, snoring softly on the thick sheets. Yuuri doesn't want to disturb her.

He takes off his pants, his scarf and then his jacket till he's in his boxers and shirt. Viktor offers him his sweatpants, remarking that he enjoys Yuuri in his clothes much to the younger man's embarrassment. Secretly Yuuri agrees that he likes wearing Viktors clothes, there's just something satisfying about it that settles nicely in his chest. One would say that Viktor was being possessive and Yuuri would agree. His scent lingers, enveloping Yuuri protectively and on nights like these, it's just what he needs.

Yuuri slips into the large bed, his glasses tossed carelessly on top of the nightstand. It's a relief when his head hits the pillow. He can feel the lethargy about to overtake him when Viktor grabs the comforter to wrap around them. Viktor is mercifully warm except for his feet which feel like blocks of ice as their legs tangled together. He shivers which caused Viktor to hold him closer, tucking his head underneath his chin.

There's no place he'd rather be.

"How is Yakov?" Viktor asks him as Yuuri is on the cusp of sleep. His arms are around his shoulders, holding him close. It's a comforting gesture, just like the sound of his heart.

Yuuri tries to focus, it takes him a couple of seconds before he understands what Viktor is asking him.

"He's okay," Yuuri tells him eventually. He finds his free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, some of the tension leaves Viktor's shoulders but Yuuri can feel how his heart continues to beat fast and hard. "Other than his blood pressure, he's fine. His side is taking longer to heal but that's because of age. I lowered the dosage but I'm going to hand the pain medication to Mila."

Viktor hums his approval. "That's a smart idea."

"He'll be fine," Yuuri reassures him. He opens his eyes and looks up at Viktor, taking in how his eyes were conflicted with emotions. Yuuri can't decide which one is which, he can only prop himself up on his elbow and turn Viktor's head so that he'll face him, hoping to comfort his fiance in return. "I've never met anyone more stubborn than Yakov. He'll be okay."

"Okay," Viktor simply says. He closes his eyes when Yuuri urges him to sleep. "Stay with me?"

"Always, Vitya." Yuuri nods, he doesn't know if it's enough but if he can help take the strain off Viktor for a short amount of time then it would be worth it.

"We should get some sleep," He said, wrapping his arms around Viktor and just holds him because he doesn't know what to do. He's a doctor but there are just some things about the human body that you just can't fix. Never had he felt so helpless. "We both need to sleep."

"Okay," Viktor repeats.

"I love you, Vitya."

Yuuri doesn't know if Viktor sleeps after that. He falls asleep quick, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

It's still snowing when Yuuri comes to, light spills into Viktors room and illuminated them in a white radiance.

It's almost irritating.

Yuuri stares down at Viktors face, admiring his features. He looked so at peace, the concerns of the Bratva far from his mind as he slumbered peacefully. It made Yuuri's heart clench. If only Viktor could be like this forever. He kisses his cheek, lingering again his skin briefly before pulling away.

He decided not to wake him up and snuggles back into his warm embrace. Instantly he felt warmer, his cheeks flushing as he wrapped the blanket around them tight and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for Yuuri to slip back into a comfortable sleep.

It was considerably later when he woke up again, without Viktor by his side. The bed felt colder, much too big. Yuuri reaches out for his glasses clumsily and plucks them off the nightstand before putting them on.

The world clears up.

Yuuri lays his head down, his fingers clutching the sheets where Viktor had slept. There were still rumpled from the obvious tossing and turning, maybe that's what made Yuuri worry more. It felt so hopeless when the person you loved the most was torturing themselves and the only thing you could do is watch, like a firecracker as it exploded in the night sky; beautiful but destructive.

(A beautiful distasteful indeed.)

He turns to face the wall opposite of the window, the light is too much and his head hurts. Yuuri doesn't cry as he thought he would, it was like his body refused to cooperate with his mind leaving him in a toxic cycle of thoughts with no end in sight. There's no reason to get up, he doesn't even want to attempt to get up. Exhaustion lingers like a ghost underneath his skin, reminding him of just how hard he had worked.

It's too cold in this room all of the sudden as if Viktor had taken all of its light when he left that morning, the walls are a pale blue reminding him of arctic ice and frosted windows. The colour itself is disheartening, draining away any sliver of happiness or laughter. 

(How long had Viktor stayed in this room? How long had he stared at these walls? Did he feel suffocated for this long too?) 

Yuuri misses Viktor's warmth.

It wasn't unusual for him to get up early. Compared to Yuuri, he was what people called a morning bird. He was most likely busy, forced out of bed and away from Yuuri doing who knows what. With Yakov out of commission, Viktor had taken on some of his roles. It was only the beginning of what he hoped to be a smooth transition. Soon Viktor would be Phakhan, he would be the most feared man in the world with Yakov by his side. Yuuri wasn't sure how he'd fall into that equation.

If he was being honest, Yuuri was scared. For himself, for Viktor, and for their _future._ The man Yuuri loved wasn't a saint but neither was he. This was the life he ended up in, he could only do what he could with it. He knew he wanted to stay by Viktor's side, he wanted nothing more than to hold onto him and never let him go. It wasn't just a promise he had made to Yakov but to himself as well.

He touches the ring around his neck, fidgeting with it. The engraved snowflake gleams in the light, reminding Yuuri of his promise. Both to Yakov, and to Viktor. 

Yuuri closes his eyes, ducking underneath the covers and wills himself to fall asleep even if his mind refuses to. Sleep is a blessing when it finally overtakes him but he doesn't give himself over to that relief willingly. He dreams of nothing.

The snow doesn't stop falling outside. 

Yuuri wakes up, his mind foggy and his vision blurry. His glasses were gone, thankfully. Sleeping in them would have resulted in Yuuri's temple aching. 

Someone runs their hands through his hair in a gentle manner rhythmically, tempting him to fall back asleep but Yuuri fights it and forces himself to open his eyes. There's no annoying bright winter light to blind him, just the soft edges of Viktors room. He blinks lazily, his eyelids dragging as he takes in his surroundings. The curtains are closed, only slivers of light sneaking through. His mind likes to play catch up, it takes Yuuri a few seconds to realize that Viktor is holding him.

Yuuri makes a soft sound and turns over to snuggle close to Viktor. He closes his eyes, smiling as Viktor kisses his head.

He feels warm and safe, protected and most importantly, loved.

Viktor's hums something softly above him, a distant lullaby of some sort and Yuuri lazily stares up at him with clear admiration in his eyes. The older man stares off into the distance, his usually vibrant eyes are washed out, tired and exhausted. Yuuri has seen the same type of exhaustion whenever he dares to look in the mirror and see a pair of similar dark eyes staring back at him accusingly. He's not sure but he feels as if something terrible had happened while he was asleep, and his mind starts racing, giving him the worst of outcomes.

"Viktor."

"Yuuri, go back to sleep," The elder man urged him tenderly. He lifts up the comforter, wrapping around them, blocking out the cold that tried to worm its way into their cocoon of warmth. "It's not even noon yet."

"Is Yakov........" He trails off, uncertain and unwilling to finish that sentence.

"Oh, Yuuri." Viktor chuckles, kissing his browline. "Yakov is fine."

"Oh."

"Have more faith in the old man, darling. He's faced much worse and came out of those situations with only _mild_ complaining."

He pushed aside the comforter and reaches up, cupping Viktors cheeks between his palms. Viktors cheeks are cold underneath his palms as if he had recently come from outside. He can smell the scent of pine and snow on his clothes. "Hi," He said with a lazy smile.

"Hi." Viktor returns his smile, turning his face so that he could kiss his palm. The cold winter light reflect off his skin, making him glow. "How do you feel, darling?"

"Much better." Yuuri looks around for the familiar ball of energetic fluff. "Where's Makka?"

Viktor tucks a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. "She's terrorizing Yuri and his cat at the moment."

"Ah, Poor Yura. How was your walk?" Yuuri asked him sleepily.

"It turned from a walk into me chasing Makkachin through the snow," he said, amused. "I wanted to take you with me but you looked so lovely and peaceful that I didn't have the heart to wake you." Yuuri watches the frown on his face deepened into one of clear self-loathing. He doesn't know what triggers the change but he can only watch as Viktor hangs his head. "I'm sorry I didn't leave a note for you, Zolotse. I didn't mean to abandon you. I....I just needed some time to---"

"Hush, Vitya," Yuuri softly coos. He leans up; kissing his jaw, his nose, and his cheeks. "You deserve some time to yourself. You're here now, that's all that matters."

"I'm scared for you, Yura."

"You're scared for _me_?"

Viktor lifts his head, sparkling blue eyes barely concealing his anger. "Why did I have to hear from Yakov that you're working yourself to the bone?" He asks, flatly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I---" Yuuri closes his mouth, the excuses that he comes up with are useless. To be honest, there is no excuse that could begin to encompass what he wanted to say. Viktor was hurting and so was he but they were hurting in different ways. "I'm scared too." He sighs deeply, unsure how to continue. Words feel like air and he can't _breath_. "Vitya, I'm so scared. I don't know what to do. I tried to distract myself, I tried to keep busy but---"

"So you work yourself till you drop?" Viktor asks. He tilts Yuuri's chin up, forcing the younger man to look him in the eye. "Is that your excuse?"

"No."

"Yuuri, please. Tell me." He pleads. "Have I......have I hurt you?"

" _No!_ You would never, Viktor."

"Then?!"

He feels like he's spilling over, his emotions brimming in his chest and Yuuri wills himself not to cry in front of Viktor. "I feel like I'm going to lose you, I know you say you love me and I believe it but I......I don't want you to see my shortcomings, I don't want you to be disillusioned by me. I don't want to get in the way."

"You could never get in the way, Yuuri," Viktor said, affectionately. The anger drains from his eyes, replaced by something soft and endless. "And you'll never lose me. I love you and I'll say it over and over because I mean it. You're the love of my life, you're allowed to be with selfish me. I want you to be. Tell me everything, Yuuri. The good, the bad. I'll be there for you, regardless of what others say, you're the most important person to me."

"I never loved anybody like I loved you, Viktor." Yuuri places his hands over Viktor. "Please, Vitya, promise me you'll never let me go."

"Never."

"Even when I'm like this?"

"Yuuri," Viktor said, smiling down at him. "Nothing short of murdering me could make me stop loving you. I want you, for now, and forever. Just stand by my side." 

"That sounds like a wedding vow." Yuuri chuckled, the pads of his finger ghosting across Viktor's pale skin, tracing hearts on his face. 

"It does, right?" He grins. "I should add that into my vows. I'll show everyone that Viktor Nikiforov is just a lovesick fool for Yuuri Katsuki. Do you think Yakov will still respect me after that?"

"Oh, Vitya," Yuuri huffs, fondly smile at his fiance's tone. He pushes away from Viktor and laid down on the other side of the bed, his arms open. "Can I hold you?"

Viktor rolls over, his arms encircling Yuuri's waist. Their legs are entwined, the comforter a tangled mess and their hair is hopelessly dishevelled but Yuuri wraps Viktor in an embrace and closes his eyes. 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, both of them wrapped up around each other and lost in their own world. Viktor laid his head down on Yuuri's chest, his silver hair tickling his chin as Yuuri ran his finger through his hair, feeling his heartbeat and breathing even out. He kissed his head, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo.

Yuuri hasn't been this relaxed in years, he recalls being in his parent's inn as a young boy, running errands and helping his parents out when he could. It had been busy and hectic but at the end of the day, it was quiet. It was then where he'd lose himself to the silence, listening as his family gathered around the table.

It was a good time for him, surrounded by those he loved. A time before everything went to shit.

He missed home, he missed the sleepy seaside town of Hatsetsu and his parent's inn. He missed the sound of the sea and his dog. He missed his sisters teasing and the taste of his mother's food.

(Often he thought of going back home, he wanted to take Viktor with him.

How would his family would parents react knowing who he decided to marry? Yuuri refrained, afraid of their answer. They loved Yuuri, he knew that but could they continue to love him knowing the path he had chosen in life?

He knew the answer to that.)

"Yuuri," Viktor said, softly. Yuuri hums, pressing his face into his shoulder. "Ah, are you tired? Should we talk about it later?"

"I'm awake," Yuuri said opening his eyes. He lifts his head up to look at Viktor who regarded him with half-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable. "Vitya, what is it?"

"Yuuri.......that night at the restaurant," Viktor began, slowly. "I know you said that you'd marry me and I know I said we'd wait but......" Yuuri swallowed hard as Viktor trails off, his hand's stilling their movements. Viktor laid atop of him, his body was warm and his hands were gentle as he clutched Yuuri close to him but his heart raced in his chest, steadfast as a locomotive engine. 

"Y-yes?"

"Would you marry me tomorrow?"


	3. See me, Tell me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor gets an answer, Yuuri breaks, and union of two souls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this on Friday but stuff happened so I'm posting this now.  
> Enjoy.

"Would you marry me tomorrow?" Viktor asks him.

Months upon months of waiting, and this was it. It was like a dream, Yuuri was convinced that he was still asleep in his apartment. (He'd wake up soon to the smell of Phichit's cooking and early morning cartoons. It would be the start of another mundane day, missing Viktor while he worked himself to the bone to distract himself.

Except it wasn't.

Viktor was right there with him, holding him tight in his arms and waiting for an answer to a question.)

Yuuri had lost count of the number of times they had pushed their wedding back—-'it wasn't safe' or 'Yakov was ill' or 'it wasn't the right time'—-each time was a different reason and each time he swallowed his disappointment, telling Viktor not to worry. A wedding didn't mean much to him, after all, it was only a formal ceremony but being married to Viktor was all he ever wanted for years.

He knew their relationship wasn't normal.....the gangster and the doctor, It would make for a fitting tragedy. Viktor would be the next Phakhan one day, it was something Yuuri knew was inevitable. And Yuuri.....he had no idea how he would fit into that picture when the time came. Where would he be? What would he do? And would Viktor still want him even then?

God, just thinking about it left him anguished. 

Sometimes he had wondered if Viktor even wanted to get married, an unfortunate thought that his insecurities had spurred on, fanning the flames of his thoughts that raged into every single possibility, from disinterest or fear or just plain regret on Viktor's part. It was worse on days when Yuuri was left alone with his thoughts. (Maybe that was why he worked extra shifts, to escape his mind. ) It made Yuuri feel like a live stripped wire, exposed and vulnerable to his very core. He had heard those words so many times, silently accepting but never fighting back no matter how many time he wanted to.

Yuri has called him a pushover once, telling him that if he really loved Viktor the. He would knock some sense into him and put a ring on it. In one way, the young boy was right but Yuuri was only brave when it counted and giving Viktor a ring felt like jumping off a cliff not knowing if you were going to dive in or slam onto the water.

(A real leap of fate. Yuuri felt like he had missed the water entirely and landed on the rocks instead. Seeing the way Viktor's face glow when Yuuri slipped that ring on his finger made everything worth it.)

Yuuri felt his throat close up around the words as he tears welled in his eyes.

"Y-Yes, of course." He nodded, barely able to get the words out. A ton of bricks had suddenly landed atop his chest, crushing his lungs and depriving him of air. " _Yes..._ "

Viktor made a distressed sound as Yuuri's tears fell. He shifted, bracing himself on his arms and hovered above Yuuri, his hands cradling his face so that he could not look away. "Yuuri. What's wrong, lovely?"

"It's nothing. I'm being silly," Yuuri half sobbed. He felt a myriad of things worming their way through his mind; relief, sadness, terror. He felt his fear dissolve and then he felt new ones take his place, like waves on an ocean, constant and dark.

"It's not nothing if it's upsetting you. What's the matter?" Viktor brushed away his tears gently. "I don't understand."

"It's just that.....I've been waiting for you for so, so long," He whimpered, his voice muffled as he birdied his face in the crook of his neck. "I know you've been busy and it's been hard but I've been waiting for so long that I thought.......I thought you didn't want me. D you know how terrified I was when I was talking to Yakov? I thought he'd tell me to leave or that I had overstayed my welcome---"

"Oh, Yuuri." Viktor sighed, softly interrupting him with a tender kiss. He held Yuuri's hands in his, brushing his thumb across his knuckles. "I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. I---"

"Yuuri, I love you. I love you so much. If you asked me to, I would have left everything behind for you. You're important to me and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't." He said, firmly. "It's my fault for putting off the wedding. You have no idea how much it pained me, I wanted nothing but to have you by my side. There were some days where I thought you would leave me because you were tired of waiting."

"No, Vitya. Never." Yuuri breaks the kiss, shaking his head. "I couldn't leave you if I tried. Yakov asked me if I would still love you if you didn't marry me, I told him I would because I love you and staying by your side is enough for me." He said, throwing off the weight that laid heavily on his chest.

"That might be my fault. I'm so sorry, love." Viktor's expression is rueful at best, worn down by regret. He closes his eyes and exhales softly. "Funny enough that the old man tried to hackle me the other day. He told me that I was an idiot if I didn't marry you and he told me not to make the same mistake he made with Lilia. You know how the old man is, he has absolutely no tact but he was right. I'm an idiot."

Yuuri gives a watery smile. "You're not."

"Agreed to disagree."

"Oh, Vitya......"

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, zoloste," He apologized. "All this time, how did you bear it?"

"I love you," Yuuri said as if those words answered his question. "Please, Vitya. I don't want to wait anymore," He pleaded. "I don't care about anything else. I just want you."

"Tomorrow," Viktor promises, leaning down to kiss his lips. "Tomorrow, let's get married. No more waiting. I don't want to lose anyone else."

He nods, smiling into the kiss. "Tomorrow, Vitya." 

Their marriage is a simple affair, secret and intimate in a small chapel that Viktor had found.

The priest is Kolya Plisetsky, the only person who would be stupid enough to wed the future Parkhan and a no-name doctor. Yuuri would be forever grateful to him, the risks were far greater than the rewards but the elder Plisetsky gave him a warm, fatherly look as Yuuri and Viktor stood in front of him.

There's hardly a sound besides Kolya who reads from his book and the sound of Lilia as she holds back her tears. Yuuri looks down at their entwined hands, a soft blush on his face and unshed tears in his eyes. Viktor gives his hand a gentle squeeze causing him to look up.

Viktor looked like a vision in the soft winter light that shined through the stained glass window, a myriad of colours touch his gleaming silver hair and making it glow. He smiled, his blue eyes also filled with diamond-like tears of joy as they basked in each other's presence. Yuuri couldn't tear his eyes away from him, feeling like he was about to burst from happiness. It was the closest thing he had come to the divine.

God, he's beautiful.

And he was _his._

 _I love you_ he said with his eyes. Viktor said it as well, hidden underneath his eyes and quivering hands. They were both nervous wrecks, barely held together by the rings on their hands. 

Yuuri found a simple black tux for the ceremony, with a bright red rose pinned to his lapel. His hair was slicked back for the occasion and he chose to wear his glasses because his contacts were back in his apartment.

Viktor wore a pure white tux, a blue rose pinned to his lapel contrasting the red one Yuuri wore. He was a vision and Yuuri felt his heart swell with happiness.

Behind them were several people, only the closest and most trusted. Both by Yuuri and Viktor.

Lilia had rolled her eyes that morning when Viktor had told his Godparents that he was on his way to get married as if he were going out to run an errand of some sort. She had only huffed, grabbing her husband and her coat as she accompanied them. Yakov and Yuri came along begrudgingly, but Yuuri could see the silent approval and excitement in their eyes as Viktor told them about the impromptu wedding. 

Mila and Georgi were already at the chapel, standing outside the doors armed and ready. Phichit stood between them, camera in hand as he beamed brightly.

(He felt a pang of sadness knowing that his family was not here. He half expected to see his mother or his sister from the corner of his eyes. If his father was here, he'd be crying too. His father has always been a soft person, especially for his youngest son.

Yuuri missed them more than ever.

Viktor had promised him that they could go back to Japan one day and have a wedding there so that his parents could see Yuuri be happy. The idea made him homesick, fueling the desire to steal Viktor away to his childhood home. He knew he couldn't do that but god did he wish he could.)

He heard Viktors vows over the sound of his heart and the slight buzzing in his ears, echoing off the high arcane roofs and bouncing around the room. It had a sense of finality that Yuuri envied. Somehow, he had managed to make Viktor cry with his words. His own vows had been short and sweet, not quite as extravagant as Viktor's but Yuuri was a man of few words.

There were some things that were better left unsaid. 

"I do," Yuuri declared when Kolya recited the vows, loud and clear despite the slight tremble in his voice. He smiled shakily ignoring how nervous he felt, knowing that he was so close to making Viktor his.

"Viktor, do you take this man to be your husband?"

"I do," Viktor responded, tears streaming down his face. He no longer looked like the ruthless and cold-hearted leader everyone had known him as he was just a man about to marry the love of his life and he _glowed_ with joy. Yuuri felt his breath catch his throat, feeling like he was about to melt into the floor when Viktor looked at him like that. He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with him.

"By the power vested in me, I know pronounce you married." The elder man closed the book, folding his hands over it. "You may now kiss---"

The words were barely out of his mouth when Viktor wrapped his arm around Yuuri's waist and pulled him close. He kissed Yuuri as if he had craved the taste if his lips, breathing him in with the barest whisper of a sweet promise. Yuuri closes his eyes and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, melting into Viktor. He couldn't stop smiling when they pulled away.

(If Lilia cleared her throat to remind them to behave, they ignored it. This was their moment.)

"I love you so much," He said, tilting their foreheads together, eyes never leaving his. Yuuri reached up, wiping the tears away with his thumb. "Is this everything you ever wanted, Yuuri?"

"Everything and _more._ " 

"I'm yours and you're mine," Viktor promised, kissing him once more. "For the rest of our lives, my love."

Yuuri felt like crying all over again. the tears that rolled down his face tasted sweet, born of joy rather than sorrow. Standing here in front of Viktor, kissing him freely without the threat of death or fear stopping him from doing so, it was all he dreamed of. 

"For the rest of our lives, Vitya."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad that I was able to complete this. Thank you to those who left comments and kudos, it made me super freaking happy. Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr: [Link](https://lady-of-inklings.tumblr.com/)


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